


All the Art of Living

by Annaelle



Series: Marvel Oneshots [4]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Established Relationship, For Stucky, I fixed it, M/M, Multi, Past Relationship(s), Thor aims better, implied ot3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-18 08:02:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15481287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annaelle/pseuds/Annaelle
Summary: He watched with abject horror as Thanos lifted the gauntlet, throwing a careless look over his shoulder at the havoc he had wreaked on them, before he grinned.“Even your pathetic God of Thunder can’t stop me now,” he sneered, raising his hand so Steve could clearly see the six stones shining brightly where they were set in the gauntlet, his stomach roiling with nausea as he tried to will his body to heal faster, so he would be able to stand, to do something, anything to slow Thanos down, to keep his attention on Steve and not on Thor, who was definitely on his way to them, with how the skies above them increasingly darkened and the clouds churned violently.“Hey you,” he yelled, drawing Thanos’ eye right back to him as he shakily managed to stand, his knees wobbly at best as he raised his fists. “Come on. I can do this all day.”--In which Steve is a stubborn, thirsty punk, Thor is exhausted and pissed off and Bucky is endlessly amused. Established Stucky, past Thundershield, implied thunderwintershield





	All the Art of Living

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know where this came from. I think it was mostly an intense desire to see Thor aim better and to give him an opportunity to give Thanos the speech he needed. Asshole. 
> 
> It somehow turned out like... this. :D 
> 
> Enjoooooy!
> 
> Love, Annaelle  
> PS Thanks to my lovely, enabling Juuls, who pushed me into finishing the draft that's been sitting in my Dropbox since I first saw IW :D

# All the Art of Living

## “All the Art of Living Lies in a Fine Mingling  
of Holding On and Letting Go.”  
—Havelock Ellis

**WAKANDA, 2018  
Steve **

His ears were ringing and his head was pounding, and he could taste the sharp tang of blood on his tongue. He’d failed—he _knew_ he’d failed when he’d heard Bucky’s sharp cry and vaguely saw his limp form being tossed through the air while the purple Titan moved closer and closer to Wanda and Vision.

He tried, _tried_ , to will his body into compliance, into _moving_ , so he could do _something_ , but even a supersoldier couldn’t quite recover from a blow to the head with Titan strength just like that.

The world was blurred around the edges, and his arms trembled too badly to support his weight, no matter how many times he tried to get up, to do _something, anything_ to keep Thanos away from Wanda and Vision. He could hear Wanda’s soft sobs, even through the ringing in his ears, and he could taste the metallic aroma of her magic in the air, could feel it rushing through the clearing when the stone must’ve _shattered_.

He knew it meant she destroyed the stone—destroyed _Vision_ —and his heart _ached_ for her, for the pain caused by the sacrifice she was forced to make.

For a moment, he was relieved, but before the feeling could sink in, the world blurred again and there was a sickening lurch behind his belly button. It stopped before he could blink, before he could even consciously form a single thought beyond that the world felt _wrong_.

He barely managed to roll to his side, chest heaving with labored breath, and he could just make out the stark white—and that wasn’t right, Vision wasn’t… wasn’t _white_ —of Vision’s boots beyond Thanos’ large form, and his nausea abruptly doubled when he realised they’d _failed_.

He had all of the stones.

The tiny hairs on his forearms stood straight all of a sudden, and the sharp, bitter scent of burning ozone lingered in his nostrils. It brought a smile to his lips, in spite of the frankly horrible and slightly hopeless situation, because it meant that all hope was not lost. It meant that Thor, at least, was still standing, was still fighting and, even though things seemed fairly bleak from where Steve was struggling to get to his feet on the Wakandan forest floor, all hope was not yet lost.

He watched with abject horror as Thanos lifted the gauntlet, throwing a careless look over his shoulder at the havoc he had wreaked on them, before he grinned.

“Even your pathetic _God_ of Thunder can’t stop me now,” he sneered, raising his hand so Steve could clearly see the six stones shining brightly where they were set in the gauntlet, his stomach roiling with nausea as he tried to _will_ his body to heal _faster_ , so he would be able to _stand_ , to do _something_ , anything to slow Thanos down, to keep his attention on Steve and not on Thor, who was _definitely_ on his way to them, with how the skies above them increasingly darkened and the clouds churned violently.

Steve had always had an uncanny ability to tell wherever the God was when they fought together, and he hadn’t lost it, even after heartbreak and distance and years of zero communication.

He’d had that innate sense _long_ before they’d gotten involved romantically, long before he’d even remotely allowed himself to think about Thor as more than a—exceptionally attractive—teammate, but it was a skill they’d honed to perfection for the duration of their relationship.

He hadn’t really had the opportunity to try to use that sense again after they’d broken things off when Bucky resurfaced.

A part of him was _elated_ to realize he still had that connection to Thor.

“Hey you,” he yelled, drawing Thanos’ eye right back to him as he shakily managed to stand, his knees wobbly at best as he raised his fists. “Come on. I can do this all day.”

Thanos’ smile, when he turned to Steve, was equal parts pitying and cruel, and if Steve were any less dazed, he’d probably be more insulted. As it stood, Steve was more preoccupied with remaining vertical and, you know, _conscious_ , but he would _definitely_ kick the ass of this overgrown purple grape with an overinflated sense of self otherwise.

“You humans are most amusing,” said overgrown grape spoke ominously. “Unable to recognize when you have been defeated, even when it is done for your own good.”

“You don’t get to make that choice for us,” Steve spat, swaying slightly. “You don’t get to make that decision for the entire fucking _universe_.” The hairs on the back of his neck were already standing on end, and he was _sure_ Thor was close, just like he knew that Bucky was leaning against a tree just behind Thanos, dizzy and dazed like Steve was, trying to find his grip so he could aim his big-ass Wakandan gun and shoot Thanos’ head off.

“You can’t stop me anymore,” Thanos said. “You’ll thank me later.”

Before he could, before Thanos could utter another syllable of a useless, megalomaniac explanation that Steve _really_ didn’t wanna hear, a large, slightly familiar axe sailed through the air and Steve could _breathe_ again.

Thanos _screamed_ when the axe cleaved through his arm, before it bounded back, the forearm that bore the clunky golden gauntlet with the infinity stones thudding to the forest floor dully. The axe then returned swiftly and knocked into Thanos’ chest, sending him sprawling backwards on the ground.

Thor landed with a heavy thud, the axe returning to his hand as smoothly and heavily as Mjölnir always had. He looked down at Thanos with disdain, and Steve nearly fell into Bucky’s arms when the other man reached him, evidently having abandoned attempts to shoot Thanos in the head, knees giving out from beneath him.

“I am Thor of Asgard,” Thor spoke, his voice heavy with purpose, lightning sparking across his arms and chest, eyes _white_ with sheer _power_. “I am the son of Queen Frigga and Odin All-Father. Brother to Loki Laufeyson, God of Mischief and Heir to the throne of Jotunheim, and Hela Odindottir, Goddess of Death and Queen of Helheim and Niflheim. I am God of Thunder and King of Asgard. You have _no idea_ what we are capable of.”

“Damn,” Bucky whispered, and Steve clutched weakly at his new metal arm.

Yeah. _Damn_.

Thor roared, a loud ominous sound that sent shivers down Steve’s spine and brought down Stormbreaker, the metal sinking deep into Thanos’ skull. The Titan’s body twitched once before he went still, and Steve felt like the breath was _punched_ out of his lungs.

“I told you,” Thor snarled at the remains of the would-be universal killer. “You’d pay for that. On behalf of Asgard, the Nine Realms, and the rest of the universe, _fuck you_.”

He yanked the axe out with a truly _disgusting_ noise and smashed it back down with another feral, bloodcurdling cry and, for a moment, Steve didn’t recognize Thor at all.

Steve hadn’t seen Thor in two years, and he’d barely spoken to him in three. In the aftermath of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s fall and Bucky’s return, he and Thor had kind of… fallen apart. Steve had spent most of that time running around Europe, trying to find Bucky, and Thor had been… God knows where, but it hadn’t been with Steve. They stopped being as disgustingly in love with each other as they had been long before they actually broke up, and Steve had moved on—or _back_ , depending on how one looked at it, considering he and Bucky kind of tried to pick back up where they left off in 1945.

Once Steve had found him, anyway.

He’d never really stopped _missing_ the other man though.

The Thor he’d known—that he’d loved—had been _stable_. He’d been hurt and heartbroken and he’d had a boatload of his own issues to work through, but he’d been a stable presence in Steve’s life.

This Thor…

This Thor looked like he had been through hell and back, like he would lose himself entirely if confronted with the right trigger.

Steve probably shouldn’t be so distracted by how _good_ the new haircut looked on him.

“Pal,” Bucky called out, abruptly startling Steve from his thoughts. “I think he’s dead.”

He was still holding Steve up, though Steve had long since found his footing and he’d stopped bleeding from the cut in his lip and on his forehead. He also felt distinctly less dizzy, though the nausea hadn’t abated at all, what with the sight of Thor repeatedly smashing Stormbreaker down onto Thanos’ body until all that remained were bloodied clumps of purple flesh.

Thor froze at Bucky’s casual comment, the electric white in his eyes slowly bleeding away until Steve was looking into the blue eye—and… _brown_? When did Thor’s eye go _brown_?—he remembered again. “Steve,” Thor said, as though he hadn’t realized Steve was there at all. As if they hadn’t spoken on the battlefield hours earlier.

As if the past four years hadn’t happened at all.

Thor looked at him and Steve looked back, his heart _squeezing_ painfully, because he knew that Thor had lost someone—he could tell, he had seen that look in the mirror often enough before he had Bucky returned to him—and he had the man that he loved right by his side, but… some part of him still felt the same things for Thor that he had on the day they’d first kissed.

“For fuck’s sake, Steve,” Bucky broke in, drawing Steve’s gaze away from Thor for a moment. He looked fond and exasperated—as he usually did when Steve did something Bucky deemed stupid—and shook his head at Steve. “He just saved all our asses and the whole goddamned universe. If you don’t kiss him, pal, I will.”

Steve’s cheeks _flushed_ , and Thor raised an eyebrow, eyeing Bucky with a contemplative look that _did_ things to Steve—and that wasn’t _fair_. Sam and Rhodey were _right there_ , and he was pretty sure King T’Challa and his scary Dora Milaje were around somewhere too. Wanda was still crying, and though Nat was with her, Steve should really _do something_.

Steve didn’t do anything but clutch at Bucky’s arm a little harder.

 _Damn these two_.

“I cannot say your attentions would be entirely unwelcome,” Thor said, a wry smile on his lips. “Though I would advise holding such passions back until there are less…” he glanced around, apparently quite aware of their surroundings and teammates too, “…less prying eyes.”

Steve was instantly gratified to see that Bucky, too, flailed a little under the heat of Thor’s gaze, and that Bucky—unflappable, king-of-dirty-talk Bucky— _blushed_ when Thor winked at them. Steve opened his mouth—though he had no idea what he was actually going to say—but was interrupted from a shrill cry from somewhere behind Thor.

“Hey big guy!”

Steve strained a little to look over Thor’s massive shoulders even as the other man turned, a little surprised but also pleased to see the living tree Thor had introduced him to earlier ambling up to them, seemingly unharmed and accompanied by a…

He blanched and blinked.

A… raccoon?

He glanced to Bucky, a little miffed that the other man didn’t seem all that surprised. Then again, Steve mused as Thor went to greet his friends, Thor had introduced him to a walking, talking _tree_ that was actually named _Tree_. Why the fuck should a talking raccoon with a gun to rival Bucky’s surprise him anymore?

He startled a little when Bucky cursed beside him, pointing one metal finger at the raccoon accusingly. “I ain’t giving you my arm, pal, don’t even think about it.”

The raccoon only jeered in reply. “I said I’d get it, I’ll get it, pretty boy!”

Steve looked between the two, unsure if he should jump in to defend Bucky’s… honor?

His arm?

Both?

Thor raised an eyebrow at the raccoon and frowned. “Rabbit, I thought I requested you not solicit body parts from my friends and team mates.” 

Steve’s eyebrows, if possible, rose further onto his forehead. “This is a common occurrence?” he blurted before he could think it through, drawing Thor, Tree, Bucky and the raccoon’s—Rabbit?—attention back towards him.

Thor sighed and shook his head. “We’re working on it.”

He ignored the raccoon’s insistent cries of “No we’re not, you godly asshole!” and stepped forward to pick up the remains of Thanos’ arm, still encased in the Infinity Gauntlet. “First,” Thor spoke, voice heavy and solemn, “we must deal with the chaos wrought by Thanos’ sick quest. We must salvage what can be salvaged and…” He shuddered, and Steve’s heart _squeezed_ at the intense grief in Thor’s expression. "We give those who were lost, who cannot be saved, proper burial. All else can wait.”

T’Challa, who had strolled into the clearing as well when it became clear the fight was over for the time being, nodded solemnly as he strode forward and offered Thor his hand. “Wakanda owes you a great debt, Thor Odinson. I, personally, thank you for killing the man that endangered all I hold dear.”

Steve watched as Thor’s lower lip wobbled for a split-second before he nodded, pasting on a broad smile and grasping T’Challa’s arm tightly. “I merely regret I could not do it sooner.”

There was something fragile in Thor’s expression, something _broken_ , and it seemed something wordless passed between him and T’Challa before they unclasped their hands. “We shall begin the clean-up of the battlefield,” T’Challa announced. “I trust you and the Captain’s team can take care of…” He waved his hand at Thanos’ remains and the Gauntlet, “…this?”

“Yes,” Steve said before either man could. “We will do whatever we can.”

T’Challa nodded curtly before he turned to Bucky. “I will have your suite in the palace cleaned, so you and your captain may take rest there once you’ve finished your work here.” He turned back to the others and added, “Of course, guest suites will be readied for all of you as well.”

With that, he strode past them, Okoye following on his heels, leaving Steve and his team staring for a moment before Rhodey snapped into action. “We’ll take Natasha and Wanda back to the palace,” he told Steve in a hushed voice. “Vision too.” They both glanced at the pale, prone form on the forest floor by Wanda’s feet. “Maybe there’s something Shuri can do still.”

“Good,” Steve nodded. “Bucky and I will stay to help Thor.” He looked to where Sam stood, arms wrapped around Wanda as she sobbed against him, Natasha’s hand rubbing gentle circles between her shoulder blades. “You should take Sam too. We can deal with this.”

Rhodes nodded curtly before he smiled tightly and clasped his hand on Steve’s shoulder. “I’m glad we made it, Cap.”

Heat burned behind his eyes unexpectedly, and he blinked rapidly, swallowing down against the torrent of emotions welling up inside of him. “Yeah,” he croaked. “Yeah, me too, Rhodes.” He clapped his hand on Rhodes’ shoulder too, squeezing a little before he let go again. “Thanks,” he said softly. “For… everything.”

Rhodes smiled tightly. “Don’t thank me yet. We’ve still got a lot of work to do.” With that, he turned to the rest of the team and gently began ushering them back in the direction of the transports.

Steve allowed himself another moment— _a second_ , to breathe, to relish in the fact that he _could_ —before he turned back, finding Bucky right behind him, blue eyes soft and concerned. “Heya Stevie,” Bucky said with a kind smile, reaching up to cup Steve’s cheek in his palm. “You okay?”

Steve _melted_ into the touch, swaying towards Bucky almost subconsciously, slipping his arms around Bucky’s neck as the other man slipped his around Steve’s waist, pressing their bodies close together in a way they hadn’t been able to in _weeks_. He rested his forehead against Bucky’s and exhaled shakily. “We’re alive,” he muttered shakily. “We made it.”

“Yeah, baby,” Bucky whispered back, rubbing his hands over the length of Steve’s back. “We made it.”

Steve let out another shuddering breath and pressed into Bucky’s embrace as much as he could, relishing in the short moment they were allowed before the world would demand their attention again. “I was so scared,” he admitted in a rush, tightening his arms around Bucky. “When he threw you, I thought—I was—”

“Shhh,” Bucky whispered, leaning forward to press a flurry of soft, small kisses to Steve’s cheeks, nose, and lips. “I’m here, sweetheart. I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

Steve leaned into the kisses, allowing Bucky to soothe the frantic energy within him, and pressing little kisses all over Bucky’s face in return. They stood there for an indeterminate amount of time before Steve felt a third hand settle on his back, warm and broad and almost as familiar as Bucky’s.

He couldn’t help but stiffen a little, pulling back from Bucky to look at Thor, who was looking at them with a torn expression that made something in Steve’s body go _hot_. “Deepest apologies,” Thor rumbled, hand rubbing over Steve’s back in familiar broad strokes, across Bucky’s hands and the many buckles and straps of Steve’s gear.  Steve didn’t mind the touch at all—he thought Thor could probably use the comfort of the touch as much as he could. “While I hate to interrupt, we must return to our duties.”

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed, though, when he let Steve slip out of his embrace, his hand lingered on Steve’s ass for just a second too long to be entirely innocent. “There’s time for this later.” He shot Steve and Thor an equally heated look, and when both men turned to look at Steve, he suddenly _couldn’t breathe_.

 _Damn_.

“Yeah,” he squeaked. “Later.”

 


End file.
